


The devil finds work for idle hands.

by GenerallyElusive



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenerallyElusive/pseuds/GenerallyElusive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's impending departure from Skyhold looms, much to the dismay of Lavellan.<br/>- Angsty and fluffy all at once.<br/>- Contains a fair few spoilers for the main questline of DA:I, you've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The devil finds work for idle hands.

It began with a single item. A book, leather bound, specially acquired upon request. It had taken no small amount of grovelling persuade Josephine to spend some of her vast influence (and the Inquisition's far smaller fortune) on shipping a small cache of books from Minrathous to the breezy keep of Skyhold up in the mountains. Dorian rarely grovelled, and was more than a little agitated that he seemed to have misplaced one of the more prized tomes from the collection. It was small, the title on its cover picked out in gold against black calfskin. Jewels set at the center of each round letter. Very Tevinter.

Replacing the cushions on the armchair in his library (honestly, try telling the staff that, though) for what must have been the seventh time (in case it had materialized underneath them somehow) he sat with a sigh. It had been a long couple of weeks. The Inquisition had finally defeated Corypheus, the rift had been sealed, and teams were being dispatched by the illustrious council of advisors to mop things up. You would have thought Lavellan would have been more enthusiastic, but Dorian could see a sadness behind his eyes. A sadness he couldn't bear to look at right now. A sadness he knew he was the cause of.

He had been attempting to gather his meagre belongings together for his impending return to Tevinter, and the tome was proving remarkably elusive. Not only that, but he was certain he was down a few vials of scented oils and, of all things, one of his rings had also seemed to grow legs and wander off. He must keep better track of his things, he vowed. It had been hectic, recently, but that was no excuse. The ring was a particular sore spot, as it had been a gift from a.. friend.. back home. They had parted on good terms, but he liked to wear it to remind himself that there were things, people, worth defending in Tevinter. People and places and sights and culture, worth all the glares and whispers he had suffered upon first arriving at Haven. Worth pitching in with a lunatic band of characters clustered around an elf with a glowing hand, to fight an Archdemon and save the world. A motley crew indeed.  
  
Drawn out of his daydreaming by a light touch on his shoulder, Dorian realized he'd been sitting with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and straightened up.  
  
"Dorian?"  
  
Vaas Lavellan. Dalish elf. Leader of the Inquisition. The man he'd been steadily losing his heart to over the past few months. Standing with that same sadness behind his eyes. The failing light of the evening was spilling through the window of Dorian's small alcove in the library, picking out the copper highlights in his hair.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
A master of the art, Dorian stuffed all of his current woes deep down into his heart with the rest, and gave the elf a winning smile.  
  
"All the better for seeing you, Amatus."  
  
This gained him a small smile in return. The Inquisitor had become so reserved since Corypheus' defeat, as if he was drawing into himself. His movements were small, his voice quiet. He waited, as if expecting the conversation to continue, waiting for a prompt or inspiration for some kind of quip or joke. These silences were becoming a regular occurrence, Dorian never quite knew what was expected of him, so he stood and continued attempting to organize his alcove. Ever since their victory, and that blasted party....  
  
He'd known he would be returning to Tevinter for some time, and he'd been waiting for the right moment to inform Vaas. The party seemed like the best opportunity, surrounded by friends within a positive, comfortable atmosphere. Far better, he thought, than on the run up to some skirmish or battle somewhere. He had to return to continue his work. Joining the Inquisition had been but a single step in his decision to try and restore Tevinter, and not just in reputation. If he gave up now, stayed with the Inquisitor, he knew he could never live with himself. Unfortunately it also meant leaving behind the man he had grown so close to.  
  
The words came easier than he had expected in the great hall of Skyhold that night. Music blending with the laughter of the company that surrounded them. All credit to him, Vaas took it remarkably well. The light behind his eyes betrayed his true feelings, however, and Dorian could see it fade the instant the words left his mouth. He had made his excuses, allowing the elf to mingle with his guests a little more, but noticed when he tried to slip away to his chambers. A moment of weakness. The topic was a lot harder to discuss the second time, on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The third, following a plea to stay, whispered into his ear as they had held one another close beneath the canopy of Lavellan's bed, were almost impossible. Vaas had only asked the once. Dorian had brushed the loose, auburn waves of hair from his face, and kissed each tear from his cheeks as they fell.  
  
Since then they had not spent a night together. The Inquisitor would appear in the library every so often yet the same still, empty silence would ensue beyond the initial greeting. Occasionally he would be requested on some foray out into the wilderness for one reason or another. He started to lose track of his belongings. Packing was taking far longer than he had intended. Finally he had managed to speak with Josephine regarding travel arrangements but hadn't seen the Inquisitor since.  
  
“I um..” For someone who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, Dorian found himself uncomfortable breaking the silence of the library. “I leave tomorrow morning. First light.”  
  
“Yes, Josephine mentioned something about that..”  
  
So quiet, subdued. He seemed almost a different man. Inwardly Dorian screamed, at both Vaas for being so incapable of hiding his misery, and at himself for being the one to cause it. Disappointing people was nothing new. He was all too familiar with letting down those he loved. It had never stung quite like this. Watching Lavellan mope was like rubbing salt into a wound.  
  
“Yes. It would make sense for her to have already told you.” He gave the elf a soft smile. “I almost feel a bit stupid now, thinking you wouldn't already be aware.” An attempt to inject some of the usual casual ease into his words to ellicit a smile or a sarcastic response. Nothing. They may as well have fallen upon deaf ears. Dorian turned to the pile of books he'd been cataloguing and organizing into “keep” and “leave”. “Say, I haven't by some chance left a small black book in your chambers in the past? I was hoping to take it with me and I can't seem to find the bloody thing anywhere. Rather rare, hand illuminated.”  
  
Vaas shifted on his feet, lifting one hand to the back of his neck as his gaze dropped to the floorboards. Dorian paused a moment then continued, determined to at least get a yes or no from the man.  
  
“About this big.” He held out his hands in an approximation of size. “Gold writing. Gems on the cover.”  
  
“I-..”  
  
Finally! Something! Dorian resisted the urge to lean forward in suspense, rather glad of it as the following pause would have made it extremely embarassing.  
  
“I don't think so. Sorry.”  
  
More silence. Dorian was beginning to lose his patience, both with the lost book scenario and the entire awkward Inquisitor fiasco. He had torn the keep apart looking for this item or that, and swore he was going to find at least one of his missing belongings before he left in the morning.  
  
“ _Would you-_ ” he began fiercely, pausing briefly to adjust his tone and clear his throat. “Would you mind awfully if I could check? I'm loathe to leave it behind.”  
  
It seemed to take the elf an age to decide. Finally he agreed with a defeated nod, and led the way from the library. The keep seemed massive and empty without as many people bustling around inside. Some had already started to take their leave of the Inquisition and begun peeling away across Thedas. Solas had disappeared almost immediately. Vivienne departed shortly after being named the new Divine, Varric left with Hawke, Bull left with his chargers not too long ago, and Blackwall was due to join the Grey Wardens soon. Lavellan, who had once been so inundated with friends, colleagues and tasks to occupy his time, was becoming more and more alone. Dorian noticed how thin he had gotten, following behind him to the stairs leading up to his chambers. How small. He was slight to begin with, but this was different. It was troubling.  
  
Upon reaching the elf's bedchambers, Dorian was shocked at its disarray. The shutters were closed tight on the windows. Candle wax pooled and dribbled across the stone floors where numerous candles had been lit and allowed to burn out without being removed and replaced. Vaas turned at the top of the stairs and stepped to one side, gesturing for Dorian to do as he wished with the room. If he was embarrassed at all about its state, it didn't register on his face at all. Perhaps he didn't care. Dorian moved further into the room and cautiously poked around, aware of the Inquisitor following behind him for a few paces before taking a seat at his desk. His initial reservations about digging through the Inquisitor's belongings soon dissipated and before long he was up to his shapely forearms in piles of clothing, discarded parchment, books and notes and Maker only knows what else...  
  
He'd just about finished a search of Lavellan's bedside tables when the sound of a small metallic object hitting the floor caught his attention. He felt, rather than saw, the elf wince slightly in his position at the desk. A glint caught his eye when he craned his neck to investigate. A ring. Silver band. Rough-cut tigerseye at its center. His ring.  
  
"Vaas.." he scooped it up, turning to confront the elf who appeared to be trying to make himself seem as small as possible.  
  
"What exactly was _this_ doing in your bedchambers?"  
  
He held the ring in the palm of his hand, extended towards the elf who gave it a sheepish glance. Vaas made several attempts at speaking, only producing various choked syllables between pauses, before heaving a sigh. He slumped back into his chair, and heaved the bottom drawer of his desk open.  
  
Dorian stepped closer to the desk, fingers closing around the ring and clenching tight as he realized what lay within. Oils. Incense. A bookmark used to track progress through some tedious tome. All of them his. On top of the pile, the golden eye etched on its front cover staring outwards, was the book he had been searching for.  
  
"Vaas... all this time.. all of this.. you had been _stealing_ from me?" Dorian, master of his own emotions and a veteran of keeping ones cool in a heated social situation, could feel his voice breaking as he strained to keep from... from what? Screaming? Crying? Laughing?  
  
Lavellan remained silent, but you didn't have to be a genius to read the guilt in his posture, or written across his face. So many arguments, insults, statements and questions were boiling in Dorian's mind, but the only one which managed to escape, in a voice barely above a whisper, was:  
  
" _Why_?"  
The silence was excruciating. In a small voice, Vaas replied. Dorian had to move closer still to be able to hear, and perched on the edge of the desk.  
  
"I thought-.." his voice cracked, he paused, sniffed, composed himself, before continuing. Eyes fixed on a spot between his feet on the floor. "I thought if I could delay you for long enough, you would reconsider. If I could distract you, or.... keep you looking for things... I'm so sorry, Dorian."  
  
He looked up, then. The tears which had been welling up as he'd spoke, spilled down his cheeks. Twin trails glistening over vallaslin.  
  
"Ever since we defeated Corypheus, since our last night together, you've been so... so _distant_."  
  
"I'm right here, Amatus. I've never gone anywhere." Seeing the man he loved in such obvious pain was killing him, but these feelings were conflicting with the anger and betrayal of the recent revelation. Despite himself, he reached out to cup the side of Lavellan's head, fingertips curling around the base of a pointed ear, thumb moving to brush tears away.  
  
Vaas squeezed his eyes shut and turned into the hand, pressing his nose to Dorian's perfumed wrist as a choked sob escaped his body.  
  
"No, Dorian" he sniffed "You were present but.. we barely spoke. Not properly. No warmth, no.. no stolen kisses when nobody was watching.." He smiled softly then, remembering better times. Candlelight and stuffy secret alcoves of the keep. His thoughts soon returned to the present, expression returning to one of weary resignation. "Even when I brought you out on missions, to try and get something more than small talk out of you... nothing."  
  
"I-.." All previous thoughts had abandoned him, Dorian found himself in the unusual situation of being lost for words. It was true he'd been trying to keep contact with the Inquisitor pleasant and brief, but this had only been in order to lessen the pain in the long run. Hadn't it?  
  
If that had been the plan, it had clearly failed. It was obvious what had been eating away at the Inquisitor, more than the loss of his friends and comarades. More than the endless requests for help and busy-work in order to clear up the last remaining areas of resistance. All this time he had been holding the elf at arm's length to try and keep him safe, yet all this time he had been breaking his heart.  
  
Words were still eluding him. There was nothing that he could say. Sliding from the edge of the desk he went to his knees before Lavellan, pulling him from his chair and into his arms as the elf finally broke down completely. There were no words, so instead he tried to let his actions speak. Thin, pale arms curled about the mage's shoulders, gripping the fabric at his back as months of grief which had been welling up came spilling out. All the while Dorian pressed him to his chest tightly, the pair of them slumped on the floor.  
  
After a time, with Dorian's hand curling its fingers through the hair at the back of his head, Vaas spoke again.  
  
"I thought I had lost you. Not only that you were leaving me but... that you were _leaving_ me."  
  
The mage sighed heavily, tilting his head down to brush nose affectionately over an ear.  
  
"Impossible, Amatus."  
  
"You still have to go, don't you." The words came as a statement, not a question.  
  
Dorian's jaw clenched. He sighed.  
  
"I do."  
  
He saw the elf's heart sink slightly again, and was prepared for another onslaught of tears. Instead, to Dorian's surprise, Vaas shifted into his lap, leant up, and kissed him.  
  
To the relief of both of them, no more tears were spilled that night. Dorian confessed that, regardless of what the elf might think, and despite his better judgement, he would always love him. A fact that would likely become harder and harder to deal with during his time in Tevinter. Much like his feelings for his homeland were pulling him from the Inquisitors arms, those he held for the Inquisitor himself told him that he would see the elf again. Even if it killed him.  
  
When the time came for Dorian to leave the next day, they embraced at the gates of Skyhold. Dorian muttered something into Vaas' pointed ear in Tevan. In return, Vaas responded with a whisper in Elvish. Upon parting ways, neither looked back.  
  
Climbing the steps in the courtyard back up to the keep itself, Vaas Lavellan raised a hand to the open collar of his shirt and closed his fingers around a ring on a chain. Silver band. Rough-cut tigerseye at its center.  
  
_"My journey will bring me back to you, Amatus."_  
  
_"And I will wait for as long as it takes."_

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, thought I'd dabble in a bit of angst after logging a few more hours with my main Inquisitor, Vaas, in the hopes of completing the collectable nonsense a little more. He's romanced Dorian, obviously, however it tears me apart a little how he never seems to say very much to Lavellan after you finish the main quest line.  
> I've not played Trespasser however I'm aware of the plot, so my Inquisitor and Dorian are just... awkwardly hanging around one another. I can imagine it being rather painful. I tried to put that down in words.  
> Also, Vaas is a sensitive soul. <3  
> I hope you enjoy. All comments and kudos much appreciated.  
> You can also find me over on Tumblr - http://generallyperfect.tumblr.com/


End file.
